


All is well in Latabæ- Part 2

by Jamcub



Category: Latíbær, LazyTown
Genre: Other, Reader insert fic is back, implied nc cause it's skevvy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 18:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10169018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamcub/pseuds/Jamcub
Summary: Part two to 'All is well in Latabæ'at the request of a friend (I'm looking at you Pira).Reader ends up in rainstorm and takes an offer for an umbrella and some hot tea... and something else.Be aware it's a little iffy on the consent, please, and read with caution.





	

You would later chalk it off as bad luck. After all, you couldn't help that it was raining outside. Ducking under the umbrella of a local cafe, you quietly cursed under your breath. Of course you'd forget to bring any kind of protective wear, and naturally, it did not look like it'd let up anytime soon. Just what you needed.

You peered into the street. At this point, it might be best to just brave the literal storm and get on with it, rather than wait for the weather to improve. It would not, and you'd end up sitting out here until the cafe closed and they kicked you out, at which point you really would have to go. Not the best alternative, but it was all you had. You scoffed.

Just when you'd arrived at this bleak possibility, a voice pulled you out of your thoughts quite suddenly. 

“Can I help you?”

A good question, you supposed, looking at the owner of the voice.

Ah. An umbrella. You check that one off in your favour for now. He seemed better prepared for the weather at least. Not to mention that at this point, you feel like anything is better than the pouring rain - weird strangers that just so happened to have umbrellas with them included.

So you nod, yes, you do need help, at least as far as getting out of this messy weather goes. He replies with a smile that should make you uneasy, but doesn't thanks to the weather. 

“No problem,” he says, offering you his umbrella, an arm to hold onto, and a name.

Rikki Ríki. Sounds appropriately posh, given he's wearing a damn fur coat in the middle of a rainstorm. But it's whatever, really. Again, you're too wet and miserable to pick at the details of the situation or anything. You'd do that when there's a knife at your throat or something.

“What a shame to find you here like this,” He remarks. You shrug. You've been there done that in much worse places. Maybe not Mayhemtown, and maybe not this close to dawn, but hey. First time for everything, as the saying goes.

You let the man talk, and talking he does a lot of, so the way to his apartment seems shorter than it is. Again, you'd worry about the ramifications of your stupid decisions later on. For now, you are content hearing about the fancy guy whose hobby it was to pick up strangers in the rain.

Again, he's fancy and you're not, and you let yourself be talked into staying for a hot cup of tea that you can't imagine him making. That's fair enough, seeing as you would rather not tell a stranger where you live. That much of a sense for self-preservation you do have, you note with a scoff.

Rikki does make you tea while you sit on the edge of a bed that looks like it’s seen better times, starkly clashing with his preened appearance. There’s a newspaper on the floor to your feet, and you figure you may as well flip through it. It’s one of these small town ones that figure some farmers’ giant crops deserve to be on the front page - but that’s not what catches your eye. Instead, your eyes are drawn to the mugshot.

Glanni Glæpur escapes again, it reads underneath in a painfully sensationalist fashion. Again, not what you’re drawn to. The man in the mugshot is wearing a scowl and a leather catsuit instead of a pompous pink get up, but it’s unmistakable - Glanni Glæpur is currently preparing a cup of tea for you. You toss the newspaper aside, tensing.

When a too-hot mug of some sharp-smelling tea is thrust at you, you grab hold of it with a wince. For the first time since you stepped into the room, you take a moment to reflect that maybe accepting a drink from a stranger isn’t the best idea.

“Leaving so soon?”

He must have read your thoughts, or else noticed you eyeing the door a little too obviously. You shrug it off nonchalantly.

“...you have a nice door.”

“That I do,” Glanni purrs, bringing his foot down to grind the newspaper into the hardwood floor with the heel of his boots. “I know you aren’t here to compliment my door, though. I know you can read.”

You wrinkle your nose. The tea is strong and you suddenly feel a little sick. You’ve heard enough stories to know you’d just made the biggest mistake of your life, but you aren’t about to give in that easily. Your grip on the hot mug tightens slightly.

“So,” He drawls, a little too close for any kind of comfort. “Aren’t you thankful I saved you from that storm?”

You look out the window, where the storm is splattering against the glass outside. That’s a good point he’s making, really, even if it’s flimsier than the newspaper. You shudder a little, still damp from the rain.

“Let me help you out of those.”

You barely resist while Glanni Glæpur tugs your wet clothes off of you. You feel pretty clammy, suddenly acutely aware of how wet you’d really been. You brush your hair out of your face and finally take a sip of that tea you’ve been cradling in your hands. It’s too cold now, and too strong, and you choke on it. Glæpur laughs.

“How cute. I can’t believe anyone here could be dumb enough to fall for that one. You’re not from around here, are you?”

You shake your head slowly. Not really - you’d moved in so recently, that just veering off the beaten path to the grocery store could confuse you. You offer a shrug in reply to him, shuddering. Without your clothes, you are both drier and colder at the same time, and briefly consider asking him to sit next to you to help warm you up with that ridiculous fur coat of his. A pretty stupid idea, even considering your situation right now.

But again, looking at the tea and the way he’s encroaching on your personal space, you feel like he’d hardly be talked into leaving you alone. You take another sip, shuddering at the bitter, lukewarm taste.

“You know, you should know better than to follow strangers home,” He hums, as though he’s having a pleasant conversation here. You shift uncomfortably. “But I’m sure we can make the best of the situation. Don’t you agree?” 

You sort of shrug again. He’s not wrong, but you feel that he means it in the worst way possible. You sniff a little, tasting tea leaves on the back of your throat.

“Well, then we’ll be fine.”

You heartily doubt this, but play along for now. The best you can do really is play along, and hope he doesn’t gut you like a fish. The thought makes your stomach lurch, and you are glad you didn’t actually eat anything in that cafe earlier. You set the cup down on the floor, honestly kind of awkwardly, and turn to him, shifting a little.

“What… do you want?” You ask. You have to admit, you do not actually know what he could possibly want from someone he’s picked off the street like some kind of stray dog, unless - your nose wrinkles. Oh, please no.

He confirms your suspicions when he places a hand on your thigh, brushing a thumb along the inside of it. “I did practically save your life,” He says, and you move your legs, just a little bit. He does have another point, there, although you’re scared that might as well have been for nothing. You move your knees apart and his hand is between your legs a little too suddenly for your taste.

“Too fast?” Glanni teases, and moved his hand back again. At least he didn’t seem like the kind of person to be overly rough, like some of the people you’ve met in town before, ones you’d rather try and not think of right now. You give a kind of half-nod, half shrug.

His response is to grab your wrists, pinning you down on the bed. “I don’t have fucking time for this,” He snarls, and you can hear his boots scrape over the floor. One of them hits the mug, and you can hear it tip over. Glanni however doesn’t seem to mind; he’s easily keeping you pinned down with one hand while the other moves between your legs again. “Sorry, but I’m on a schedule. I can’t wait for everyone, you know.”

The faster this is over with, the better you’ll feel either way, you know, so you try and shift, at least a little, on the mattress. It’s one of the hard ones that makes you feel like you’re sleeping on the floor anyway, and there’s no way you can get comfortable before deft hands undo your pants and tug them down. He really doesn’t seem to be wasting much time, here.

You’re staring at the ceiling, breathing slowly while your underwear is pulled off next. He’s being pretty gentle for an actual criminal, at least until he actually forces one digit into you. You bite your lips to keep from crying out, and you swear you can hear him grinning, somehow. Great.

One finger turns into two before he even picks up any kind of pace, and you’re a writhing mess on the too-hard mattress in no time. It’s still by no means comfortable, but despite yourself you whine when he pulls away. Glanni quirks a brow, popping open the button on his pants.

“What?” He asks, a little breathless himself. The pants and suit jacket come off to reveal the same black catsuit you’d seen in the paper just before, and he pulls down the zipper slowly. You realise you’ve been staring, so you decide to try and focus on the ceiling again. He grabs your legs and pulls them over his shoulders, with your heels digging into his upper back.

At least he doesn’t comment though, instead straddling you, now with both of his hands around your wrists above your head. There’s a brief pause where you both just kind of stare at each other, as though neither of you knows where this is headed anymore,

And then he pushes into you.

It’s a lot worse than his fingers, and you can’t bite back a scream this time. Glanni actually pauses, if briefly, to watch your face. Then he’s back to fucking you into the mattress, quite literally so. His own pants and moans mix with your own cries. It does feel good - as much as it can, really - each thrust is punctuated with equal parts pain and pleasure. You just hope he doesn’t notice.

Not that he would - he’s devolved into almost animalistic pants and groans, his thrusts speeding up. You can feel your lower back hitting the bed every time he slams into you, and that pain combines with everything else and leaves you panting, almost whining in his hold. You keen with every slam into you, your heels digging into his back further, and just when you think you see actual stars-

He comes, pulling out before he’s even done, and you feel something warm trickle between your legs. Everything moved awfully fast, you realise suddenly. Glanni finally lets go of you, shifting so he’s sitting on his heels, still panting softly. You’re not entirely sure whether you reached your own peak during all of this- not that it’d matter. You still expect a knife at your throat at some point, but that never happens - just a lot of very awkward staring until you sit up, a little dizzy.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You just made me tea and then fucked me in a shitty apartment,” You go back to staring at the wall to avoid actually looking at him, at least until he slips off of the bed and grabs his previously discarded clothes. There’s still an alarming lack of a knife, you note.

“Yeah.” 

The mug apparently shattered in the middle of your little adventure, and there’s a puddle of cold tea on the floor. He steps over it, growling. You’re still trying to avoid looking at him while you gather yourself enough to actually leave the bed.

“It’s… still raining?” You ask, as though this was somehow very important. Glanni snarls.

“What, you want me to take you home? That sounds like a shitty idea.” He remarks, pulling on his jacket. You must have missed him actually putting on and buttoning his pants.

“You’re the one with the umbrella, I guess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll thirsty. Also, this took me about .... three months from start to finish. I'm awful. Shoutout to Pira for beta-ing this hot mess.


End file.
